Tyelpë's Lesson
by fantasychica37
Summary: Celebrimbor's first yearly examination with Aulë. Six month late fic exchange with kim onka!


"Tyelpë," someone was saying. "Wake up, melmenya."

Tyelpë rolled over, away from the hand shaking him awake. "Don't wanna," he moaned.

"Should I tell Lord Aulë that you were too sleepy to come to your smithing lesson, then?" the voice- he now recognized it as his ammë's- teased.

Tyelpë's eyes flew open. How could he have forgotten? Today was the biggest day of his life! "My smithing lesson with Lord Aulë's today!" he cried, jumping out of bed and frantically rooting in his closet for his forge-clothes.

"Tyelpë, slow down before you break something!" Ammë laughed. But Tyelpë didn't pay any attention because if he didn't hurry up he'd be late, and then Atar would be so disappointed in him, and he didn't want to do something wrong before he even got there! He tried to braid his hair, but he was too excited and nervous and his fingers shook.

"Tyelperinquar, yonya," Ammë said. "Slow down. Let me do it for you."

"Fine, just hurry!" Tyelpë sat down on his bed and let Ammë brush and braid his hair.

"Do you think Lord Aulë will let me make a sword today, Ammë?" Tyelpe asked.

Ammë laughed. "I think you need a few more years of experience first, melmenya!" she said. "You're an Elf, Tyelpë. You have time. Don't rush to do everything right away!"

"But I don't want to be stuck making boring baby stuff!" Tyelpë whined. Lord Aulë had taught Haru full-time because Haru was the Crown Prince of the Ñoldor and Atar in yearly examinations because Lord Aulë did that for every forge student and Haru had insisted on teaching his son himself, and Tyelpë wanted to show Lord Aulë that he was just as good as they had been- and how could he ever do that if he was stuck making cups and stuff?

"You love spending time in the forge," pointed out Ammë as she tied Tyelpë's braid up on his head. Tyelpë waited for his hair to pass inspection, which Ammë always insisted on every single morning (except today, Tyelpë may not have minded so much).

"You look dashing, my Lord Prince," declared Ammë with a smile, giving an exaggerated curtsy.

"Thank you Ammë may I go now?" Tyelpë asked all in a rush, trying really hard to be calm and polite and probably not doing a very good job. Usually he would reply, "Thank you, my lady," and bow, which would make them both laugh, but it had already been five minutes since he'd woken up and he wanted to be at the forge already!

Ammë opened her mouth, and with that, Tyelpë was down the hall.

"Mind you don't get any food on your tunic!" she called after him. "And don't forget to wash your face!"

"I know, Ammë!" Tyelpë called back.

Atar was already downstairs waiting for him. Tyelpë hurriedly ran into the washroom, washed up, slid in his socks across the floor to the table, and started eating as fast as he could.

"I see my son has been replaced with a wild boar," chastised Atar, but he was smiling.

"Curufinwë Atarinkë Fëanárion!" scolded Ammë, shaking her head and laughing. "Don't tease the child so! He's so nervous I'm just glad he is eating!"

Atar sat down across the table from Tyelpe. "You have nothing to be nervous about, son," he stated in that confident Curufinwë voice of his, the one that Tyelpë was convinced Haru Fëanáro had spent years teaching him, because the two sounded exactly alike when they got like this. "You're a grandson of Fëanáro, of the noble house of Finwë, and the craftsman's skill is in your blood. You'll make Aulë so impressed that he'll start sending his students to me!" Atar clapped Tyelpë on the shoulder and boomed, "Now eat up. You'll need your strength if you want to become one of the best craftsmen ever known to Elfkind!"

Tyelpë miserably ate the rest of his porridge, wishing he could just stay home.

But he went with Atar in the carriage from the house Haru Fëanáro owned in Valmar to Lord Aulë's forge, wishing he could pray to the Valar that he wouldn't mess up and embarrass his House, but Lord Aulë was a Vala, and they'd all probably just laugh at Tyelpë.

A Maia dressed in clothes black with soot met them at the door. "Prince Tyelperinquar Curufinwion?" he asked, businesslike. Tyelpe nodded, meekly.

"Speak up, boy," Atar encouraged.

"Y-yes, Airë," Tyelpe managed.

"I am Curumo. Come this way, Lord Aulë is expecting you," said the Maia, clearly wishing he could be doing anything else other than escorting Elflings. "Namárië, Prince Curufinwë. We will send for you when Prince Tyelperinquar is ready to be picked up."

"Yes, Airë," said Atar stiffly. Through osanwë he told Tyelpë, Make me proud, and then he was gone and Curumo was leading Tyelpë through a long maze of hallways.

Tyelpe had been here a few times before with Great-grandfather Finwë- who, he realized now, had shown off his first great-grandchild to everybody he could- but that had been long ago, and Haru and Atar disapproved of him spending too much time with the Valar. Tyelpe had only gotten to come today because Great-grandfather Finwë and Ammë had had a shouting match with Atar in the sitting-room about the tradition of having young smiths evaluated by Lord Aulë each year and how Lord Aulë had worked with Haru Fëanáro and even with Atar (to be fair, it was mostly Atar doing the shouting about how the Quendi did not need the Valar to determine their worth and how Tyelperinquar was his son, nobody else's- but then Ammë had said something about sleeping alone and after that Atar had been quietly agreeable).

So Tyelpë had very little memory of the inside of the magnificent building he passed whenever he and his family went to stay in Valimar (another thing Atar hated to do), and he was astonished by how many huge rooms there were. From what he could see as he glanced to the side while hurrying after Lord Curumo, each room was full of iron and steel and gold and silver and jewels and tools huger than any Tyelpë had ever seen and half-finished projects of all kinds. They passed Maiar and Eldar alike in the halls, some wearing fine silks and blackened gloves and others wearing coarse cotton and linen, all at least partially covered in sweat and soot. Tyelpë had never seen so many smiths in one place in his life, and he forgot his nervousness for a moment in his awe- but then it came back, because he had to be the very best of all of them. He was the only son of Curufinwë Atarinke and the only grandson of Curufinwë Feanáro, after all.

It seemed like they walked for only a second and for hours on end at the same time, but finally Lord Curumo stopped before a pair of large, ornate doors covered in carvings inlaid with gold and precious gems, thrown open to reveal a forge that Tyelpë was sure was bigger than his house. It was full of people working, carrying things, and shouting to each other to be heard over the din. In the center of the room was a huge bellows with a man bent over it. He looked up when Tyelpë and Lord Curumo opened the door.

Tyelpē caught his breath. This had to be Lord Aulë, he was sure of it! He was so tall that his arms were as long as Tyelpe, and his muscles were huge. He had long hair tied back, and his eyes were golden like Laurelin and seemed to pierce through Tyelpë's very fëa. He was also covered in soot, and when he pushed his safety goggles up on his forehead, he had huge reed goggle marks on his face. He smiled at the two of them and said, "Welcome, Tyelperinquar. I am Aulë."

Tyelpe bowed deeply. "I am honored, Airë," he said, hoping it was the right thing to say. Lord Aulë was not what he had expected at all.

He wasn't sure if he should keep bowing or what he should do, but after a second Lord Aulë said with a smile, "You may rise, Tyelperinquar. And please, Master Aulë will do. I'm just a smith, same as you." He turned to Lord Curumo and added, "Curumo, could you kindly look in on Alassë and Lelyamel in the corner? I smell magnesium, silver, and smoke coming from that direction, and I would like to preserve the integrity of my forge, as well as the number of living Eldar in it."

Curumo said something angrily in what sounded like Valarin and speed-walked in a very dignified manner to the mentioned corner, speaking in a loud dignified voice to the offending Elves.

"Would you like a tour of the forge, Tyelperinquar?" Lord Aulë asked, turning back to Tyelpë, pushing his goggles up on his head, yanking off his gloves, and wiping his hands on his work apron. "I assure you that Curumo has all potential explosions under control."

"Yes, please, thank you, Ai- Master Aulë!" Tyelpe cried, trying not to sound too childishly eager.

Lord Aulë showed Tyelpë the many rooms in the building, each for a different type of craft- there were rooms for blacksmithery, jewel-making, wood carving, and on and on and on. Tyelpë had never imagined that his forge could be this huge! Lord Aulë told Tyelpë stories about certain rooms as they walked, and Tyelpë started to relax a little. They barely saw anybody, which Tyelpë was glad for.

Finally they arrived at a small door (though no less decorated) that Lord Aulë opened. It was a small forge, clearly meant only for training, and Tyelpë's heart sank, although he tried not to let it show.

But Lord Aulë said with a chuckle, "You'll work at the masters' forges in time, Tyelperinquar. Not even your haru worked in a masters' forge by the end of his first year!"

That caught Tyelpë by surprise. "Really, Ai- Master Aulë?" he asked, stunned.

Lord Aulë nodded, smiling fondly. "He stormed out the day I informed him as such, but the next day your great-grandfather dragged him in with a written apology note and said that his son should be more cooperative from then on, and he never said a word after that."

Tyelpë's eyes grew wide. "What did Great-grandfather Finwë do?" he asked, transfixed.

Lord Aulë laughed. "Do you know, Tyelperinquar," he said, "I never asked."

Tyelpë tried not to look too disappointed. He needed to remember to ask Great-grandfather Finwë later!

"Well, Tyelperinquar," said Lord Aulë, clapping his hands together and raising a cloud of dust even though he'd had gloves on while he was working, "shall we begin?"

Tyelpë nodded, his heart pounding.

Tyelpë's exam was going horribly. Lord Aulë was having him make simple things- an iron cup, a wooden box- but as his excitement wore off to be replaced by the thought that he was being tested by one of the Valar, Atar's Make me proud played through his head again and again, and he started making stupid mistakes, and then his hands started shaking, which Atar always said was the worst thing for a craftsman to do.

"Careful, Tyelperinquar," said Lord Aulë suddenly, grabbing Tyelpë's hands and taking the knife he was holding.

"Airë?" asked Tyelpë, confused.

"You almost cut off your ring finger, Tyelperinquar," Lord Aulë said. "Let's stop and-"

"I promise I can do better!" Tyelpë cried in a panic. His whole world seemed to shatter before his eyes.

Lord Aulë held up a hand, releasing Tyelpë's left hand. "I know, Tyelperinquar," he said. "I believe you."

Tyelpë blinked. "Then what-" he started, stupidly.

"Let's stop and bandage your finger," Lord Aulë finished.

Tyelpë looked down at his hands. His right hand did hurt, he realized. There was a deep gash on the back of his ring finger, and blood was dripping down the sides of it onto Lord Aulë's hand. He tried to yank it away, mortified at bleeding on the third most powerful of the Valar, but Lord Aulë held on to it and walked Tyelpë over to the emergency medical kit in the corner.

Tyelpë stood miserably as Lord Aulë washed his hands and disinfected and bandaged Tyelpë's cut, humming softly as he worked. "There," he said at last. "All fixed. No harm done."

"I'm sorry," Tyelpë mumbled.

"For what?" Lord Aulë asked gently. "Tyelperinquar, your hand slipped. That happens to everybody- even me."

Tyelpë blinked stupidly at the Vala. "But you're- you're the Great Smith, who built Arda!" he exclaimed. "If you'd made any mistakes at all, the world would be broken!"

"How do you think we built this land?" Lord Aulë asked. "Failures innumerable that taught us a little bit more each time until we learned enough to do it right."

Tyelpë didn't want to say "You're just trying to make me feel better" to a Vala, so he didn't say anything, just looked down at his finger, wanting to die of embarrassment.

"And luckily for you," Lord Aulë added, "accidentally cutting your finger, unlike making an error in the shaping of Arda, is not the end of the world."

"But the House of Finwë-" Tyelpë began, then stopped himself.

"Ah," said Lord Aulë. Tyelpë looked up to see him staring into the distance thoughtfully.

Lord Aulë's eyes snapped back to Tyelpë's face and he said, "I think I see the trouble. Tyelperinquar Curfinwion, only grandson of the great Curufinwë Fëanáro, only great-grandson of Finwë High King of the Ñoldor, the darling of the family, the next generation- all of which means a large burden on small shoulders, am I right?"

Tyelpë nodded, eyes wide. Nobody had ever talked about this with him before.

"So if your performance today is anything less than perfect, you will have failed your family and become the disgrace of the Ñoldor?"

A single tear rolled out of Tyelpë's eye, and he didn't even bother to wipe it away.

"Tyelperinquar Curufinwion," said Lord Aulë gravely, "if you think that, you are wrong."

"B-but- I'm sorry- b-"

"Your father and mother love you, do they not?" asked Lord Aulë, cutting Tyelpë off.

"O- of course, Airë!" Tyelpë exclaimed.

"And if you were hurt or upset, they would drop whatever they were doing to come and comfort you?"

"Yes…"

"I too am a parent," said Lord Aulë. "I too love my children across the Sea, more than my own life, and I too would abandon my duties to help the Khazad in their hour of need. As a parent, I can assure you that nothing any of my children could do- not even if every single one of them joined forces to free Morgoth from Mandos and destroy all of my creations- could ever make me love them any less. And as a parent, I can assure you that nothing you do- certainly not your skill in the forge- could ever make your parents- or any of your family- love you any less."

Tyelpë wasn't sure why he wanted to cry.

"And as for everyone else," Lord Aulë added, "nobody worth your friendship and love will form their opinion of you based on your skills- in anything- because skill is not what matters in life."

"But what about-" Tyelpë started to say, but Lord Aulë held up his hand.

"Tyelperinquar, will you promise me never to forget what I am about to tell you?"

Tyelpë nodded.

Lord Aulë smiled warmly at Tyelpë, took his hands, and said, "In the very beginning we Ainur shaped Arda so that the Children would have a place to live. Now the Firstborn are come, and my Maiar and I teach you all we know about craftsmanship, to share what we most love. We make things, and we move life forward. In that we echo the ultimate Creator, who has absolute power within Eä his creation, and without whom none of us would be here. Before Ilúvatar, none of us- not even your Haru Fëanáro, not even me, not even Manwë Súlimo and Varda Elentári- are any greater than another, and don't you ever forget that."

"I promise I won't, Master Aulë," Tyelpë swore.

"My wife believes," continued Master Aulë, "that changing the web of nature- even cutting down trees for firewood- is disrespectful to the sacredness of the earth. But I have always held that change is healthy for progress, that our minds were given to us so we could use them, so we could create new things never before imagined, and that every hammer-stroke, every work of our hands no matter how skilled or unskilled, is a celebration of life, an act of love for those around us, and a song of praise. And that is what craftsmanship is all about- it's not a competition, not a way to win people's affection, and certainly not a way to prove you are enough, or that you matter, because the fact that you are here upon this Earth, that you were brought into being by the Allfather himself, is proof enough of that."

Master Aulë fell silent, looking at Tyelpë fondly. "So it doesn't matter, Tyelpë," he finally said, "whether you surpass Curufinwë Fëanáro in every way or whether you never learn to make more than a wooden box. If you ever thought me wise, hear me now: it simply doesn't matter."

Nobody had ever said that to Tyelpë before. "Thank you," he said, unsure of what to say.

Master Aulë squeezed Tyelpë's hands one last time. "You're welcome," he said, and Elfling and Vala stood motionless for a moment that seemed to last for eternity.

Master Aulë let Tyelpë's hands slip out of his and asked kindly, "Now, shall we start again?"

Tyelpë nodded. As if in a dream he walked back to the workbench and finished the dovetail joint of the piece of wood that was to be the first side of the box. As he carved the pieces, he thought about everything Master Aulë had just told him, and it was a little confusing but it felt freeing. Master Aulë watched him work, but after a while Tyelpë forgot all about him. There was just him and the wood and the tools.

"I'm done, I think," Tyelpë said after a time, looking up at Master Aulë as though waking from a dream and holding the box out to him tentatively.

Master Aulë reached out and took the box from Tyelpë, opening and shutting the lid and turning it over in his hands, as Tyelpë's heart pounded in his ears. "Tyelperinquar, do you realize what you have just done?" he cried.

Tyelpë shook his head. His heart sank and he looked down at his hands.

"You just did that in half the time it usually takes!" exclaimed Master Aulë, his voice glowing. Tyelpë looked up, stunned by the eagerness in his voice. "What's more," Master Aulë added, setting the box on the worktable tenderly, "that was the best work by a first-year student that I have seen in my entire life! And all it took was confidence!"

He let out a whoop, scooped Tyelpë up and spun him around. "I knew you could do it!" he cried, laughing. Tyelpë couldn't help but start laughing with him, and it felt like a thousand stones were lifting from his chest, like he was flying.

Suddenly Master Aulë put Tyelpë down, knelt in front of him, and before Tyelpë had a chance to ask what he was doing, hugged him tightly. "I'm so very proud of you, Tyelpë," he said gruffly, fondly.

"Thank you," Tyelpë said slowly, slowly coming out of the daze of focusing really hard, and wondering at it all.

"And if you remember what you have learned today," Master Aulë said, getting to his feet and smiling at Tyelpë, dirt-covered and radiant, "you will be one of the best craftsmen, and one of the best people, Arda will ever see."

Tyelpë nodded, then bowed, because he felt he should. To his surprise, Master Aulë did not protest but guided Tyelpë back up after a moment with a dirty glove. Tyelpë noticed in a hanging face mirror above the sink that his forge-smock had a huge sooty Valarin handprint on it, and he chuckled to himself- it looked like a blessing of some sort, but it was a giant sooty handprint!

"Would you like to help me put hinges on it, and maybe write your name somewhere on it?" Master Aulë asked. Tyelpë nodded eagerly, and so it was that Aulë the Smith taught engraving to both the Maia who would use the knowledge as a sickening signature and the Elf who would provide protection against it.

They talked about Tyelpë's skills and weak areas for a little while, which eventually turned into a discussion of Curufinwë Atarinkë's cooking attempts as Tyelpë walked down the hallway beside Master Aulë, scurrying to keep up with the Vala's large strides, carrying his forge-smock under his arm and holding his box in his hands, cradling it like Haru held his Silmarils. Tyelpë decided that as soon as he got good enough, he'd bring the box- he already thought of it as their box- back for his yearly examination and fill the carvings of his name with gold.

Atar was waiting by the front door, and his face lit up when he saw his son. "Tyelperinquar!" he boomed. "How did you do?"

"Look, Atar!" Tyelpë cried eagerly, giving Master Aulë a respectful nod, walking quickly towards him and showing him the box.

Atar examined it. "Excellent work, yonya," he declared, his face glowing with pride. "The third in the great line of smiths of the House of Fëanáro! Did you make the whole thing?"

"Master Aulë helped me with the hinges and my name," said Tyelpë, forcing himself to speak up.

"Hmm," said Atar, running an expert finger over the hinges. "In a few years you'll be able to do just as well!"

"I am very impressed with Tyelperinquar," Master Aulë said, cutting in. "He has learned much in just a year, and I foresee a very bright future for him."

Atar puffed up with pride, but Tyelpë just smiled.

Tyelpë kept that box his whole life. When he was packing to go to Endórë, he took it, along with the note that had appeared inside reading, Tyelperinquar- This little I can do for you: store secret things in this box, and they will be preserved for all time. I would beg you not to set forth, but I ask you now, remember your promise. U.C. be with you. As they were preparing to unpack the boats, it was Amras who handed Tyelpë- now Tyelperinquar- his box, with a thoughtful look on his face, and when Tyelperinquar read the note- for the last time, he promised himself- by the light of a dying fire the next morning, there were dried tearstains on it that he had not put there. From that day on he was as meticulous with keeping the box locked as his grandfather had been in the words of the Oath, and he wore the key around his neck, under his tunic, every day of the First Age. The metal sat cold against his chest, but he quickly got used to it.

On the day when his father and uncle were expelled from Nargothrond, Tyelperinquar- now Celebrimbor- focused on the coldness of the key on his chest and the message that had been given to him along with it (one of the best craftsmen and one of the best people- one of the best people- one of the best people), and he knew that both parts were important, even if Aulë had been right about nothing else.

He stayed and watched as his family left, their eyes naming him traitor and coward, and discovered how strong he was.

Centuries later, Celebrimbor fled Nargothrond, carrying only an Elfling on his back and a jeweled box full of family portraits, letters, and the Elfling's doll in his hands.

Nothing new went into the box until after the War of Wrath, when it welcomed letters from Celebrimbor's mother and grandmother, and he wrote them back.

In Lindon, Celebrimbor took off the key and his chest was warm again. He stored the key and the box in different drawers in his dresser, a safe place, and did not think of the box again until the morning after one sleepless night in the forges resulting in his three greatest triumphs.

He placed them in on top of drunken love letters to Galadriel that he had forgotten about as lovingly as Aulë had picked up the box the day he had made it-

Wait.

He frowned.

He locked the box, put the key around his neck for easy access, and ran down the hallway.

"Annatar!"

Annatar poked his head out of his forge.

"Tyelperinquar, what's wrong?" He always called Celebrimbor by his Quenya name- "because you are of the mighty House of Fëanáro", he always said.

Because you are of the mighty House of Fëanáro…

"No," said Celebrimbor softly.

"Tyelperinquar?" Annatar asked, his too-beautiful features the picture of concern.

Celebrimbor took a deep breath and said, "No, nothing's wrong. I just- I just heard a noise, that's all, and I wanted to make sure you were all right."

He forced himself to smile and make polite conversation, and all the while the key burned ice into his heart.

Celebrimbor sent two rings to Lindon shortly thereafter, in a jeweled box containing family portraits, photos, Dwarven jewelry from Narvi, and as many treasures from Eregion and memories of the House of Fëanor as could fit.

And at the end of it all, along with Galadriel's beloved face and the memories of everyone depending on him, it was Aulë's I'm so proud of you that gave him strength through torture. "You were the first person who truly supported me," Celebrimbor said.

Annatar sneered, and he never knew that Celebrimbor was not talking to him.

"Where are the Three?" he growled much pain later.

"They're-" Celebrimbor forced out (and he was never sure who "we" was), "in- our- box!"

"Celebrimbor Curufinion," said a voice.

Where am I?

"You are in my Halls."

Memory came rushing back.

The Three! Are they safe?

"They are."

I didn't know.

"I know."

Silence.

What must I do?

"First you will heal."

Wait! My family? Will you tell me of them?

"Finrod Felagund has been rehoused. The rest remain here. My Halls must hold Curufinwë Fëanáro until the breaking of the world."

Grief.

My father, my other uncles?

"They will not be released for many Ages, with the exception of Telufinwë Umbarto, who came to my Halls having unlearned much of Melkor's lies."

And my uncle Macalaurë?

"Yet lives."

Much time passed.

"Celebrimbor, you have a visitor."

Is it my father?

"No. Your father is not ready to have visitors."

But I am?

"I decided this visit would be beneficial."

A new, familiar presence entered.

"Tyelperinquar- Celebrimbor."

Mas- Airë?

"You may rise, Celebrimbor. And please, "Master Aulë" will do. I'm just a smith, same as you."

I'm s- no, yes, no, yes- I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I was wrong. You were right about all of it! I failed my people… I…

"I forgive you."

W- what?

"I forgive you, Celebrimbor son of Curufin. And I am so very impressed by you, and I am sorry for our own mistakes that unleashed destruction upon you all."

It's all your fault! No, it's all my fault! I hate Grandfather! How? What?

"We are all to blame for the tragedies that have befallen us since the destruction of the Trees. Your grandfather and father and uncles made terrible mistakes, and you made a single one, but so did we. You denounced the deeds done by your father, Celebrimbor. That takes incredible bravery. And you paid the ultimate price in saving your people once you realized what you had done. You have become a righteous and brave man, Celebrimbor, and although I would have urged you to never stand apart from the Valar, I rejoice to see you stand on your own. I couldn't be prouder of my best student."

His voice broke.

"I'm so sorry, Celebrimbor. I'm so sorry for what you had to endure. We should never have let Sauron flee."

And he touched Celebrimbor's fëa gently, and a storm of grief and anger and pain finally broke loose. Aulë held him until he had calmed enough to say, "But I do not regret the Three."

As, a world away, the grieving Fellowship of the Ring stumbled into Lórien and Galadriel, aching with Sea-longing, met them radiant as a queen, Aulë pulled him closer and said softly, "I did not think you would."


End file.
